A Christmas miracle
by the local knicker merchant
Summary: When Peter returns to the street at Christmas 2016, Nick and Carla's marriage is hanging by a thread. With this new complication in town, can Carla make things work with Nick or will she be pulled in another direction?
1. Chapter 1

"I don't see why we have to go to your mums for Christmas dinner."

Carla's hot breath issued from her mouth as a foggy cloud of condensation in the early morning chill of the crisp late December day as she and Nick emerged from Victoria Court and embarked on their morning walk to work.

"Ah…" Nick couldn't help but let the sarcasm drip from his voice. "Because they're family."

"They're not my family." How Carla wished that was true. "Besides, they don't _want_ me there; they all hate me."

"With good reason don't you think?" Nick couldn't believe his wife was acting like the injured party in this whole sorry mess. "It would help if you cracked a smile once in a while."

"I might if I had something to smile about."

The couple; for couple they were, even if the term described the legality of their relationship more than the reality at this moment in time, strode along the cobbles, the tension that had become like a third member in their marriage walking silently beside them.

"What would you have us do, then?" Nick challenged his wife. "If you don't want to go to mums? What? Sit at home in misery all on our own?"

"No," Carla said calmly, ignoring Nick's dig at the state of their marriage. "I thought we could go away, somewhere warm maybe, just the two of us. There's still time to book something."

"We can't."

"Why? They'll understand, you know, that we need some time on our own."

"It's my brother's first Christmas without his wife, remember? His kids first without their mum. I think that trumps a little matrimonial difficulty."

"A little? Boy, are you deluded if you believe that!"

"Well, look what we've got here."

Carla's heart sank as she instantly recognised his voice; a voice that she'd both hoped she'd never have to hear again, yet strangely craved. Not that she'd ever admit to that craving, not even to herself.

"Love's young dream I suppose?"

Carla couldn't help but stop as she rounded the corner into Coronation Street and turn to face Peter on the other side of the street, leaning against his father's front wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

Nick tried his best to ignore Peter; he kept on walking, but was forced to stop when he realised Carla was determined to engage him in conversation. He silently cursed the power that this man, even after everything he had put Carla through, still seemed to have over his wife. He hastened to stand protectively, whether of his wife's feelings or his own proprietary rights it was unclear, next to Carla, glaring across the cobbles at his old adversary.

"What are you doing here?" Carla challenged her ex-husband; didn't he know that she had won a moral custody battle over these streets?

"What? I'm not allowed to visit me old man?"

"You're just here for Christmas then?" Carla was suddenly conflicted, unsure of what answer she was hoping for.

"As a matter of fact, I'm back for good." Peter couldn't help but smile at the reaction his news created on the faces of his ex-wife and her new husband. "Looks like I got back not a moment too soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick spat aggressively.

"Nothing," Peter grinned. "Nothing at all."

"If you're back to cause trouble –"

"Nick, don't." Carla spoke low, a warning to her husband.

"What trouble could I cause?" Peter smirked, enjoying himself; he'd heard all about Nick and Carla's disastrous wedding just over six months ago and couldn't help but pick at the scab.

"I'm not in the mood for games." Carla turned to her ex, silently pleading with him to leave it alone.

To no avail.

"Unless, of course, there's trouble in paradise?"

"Oh, get stuffed Peter!" Carla had had enough; of both of them. She turned briefly to face Nick. "I'll see you tonight."

Carla stormed off towards Underworld without a backwards glance at either of her husbands, ex or current.

"She can be a bit of a handful, can't she?" Peter said sympathetically. "I know from being married to her myself -"

"Keep away from Carla!" Nick rounded on Peter. "Keep away from both of us!"

"Or what?"

"I'm warning you, Peter. Don't push me."

Nick followed in his wife's footsteps in a quiet rage; the last thing he needed was Peter back for good, interfering in his marriage, messing up his life.

Peter took a drag on his cigarette as he watched Nick's progress down the cobbles; he was more than satisfied with this morning's little tête-à-tête.

* * *

Carla stood at her kitchen bench that evening chopping vegetables to Nick's exacting standards. Well, not quite to his standards; Carla didn't care if the carrot slices in their stir-fry were cut to a width of precisely one quarter of an inch. Not as much as Nick cared at any rate. Why did he care so much? Carla wondered. Why did it matter? The fact that he did care infuriated Carla. She used to find it cute; how he liked things just so. But that was when his little ways were offset by his love for her. Now… now they were simply irritating.

"This isn't working." Carla declared as she resolutely set the knife down.

Nick glanced across at Carla from the other end of the bench where he was preparing a ponzu and ginger stir-fry sauce.

"Give us the knife, I'll sharpen it for you."

"It's not the knife. It's this! Us! _We_ aren't working."

Nick sighed; not this again. "I can't just forget what you did."

"I'm not expecting you to. But it feels like you're not even trying. No, it's more than that, it's like you want to punish me."

"That's not true."

"And you know what? It's working. Because _this_! _This_ is torture!"

"You have to give me more time."

"How long, Nick? Hey? It's been over six months!"

"I don't know," Nick shrugged his shoulders sadly. "I honestly don't know."

"One day, hey? One day you might – or you might not – forgive me. Is that how it is?"

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie and tell you I'm over it? It's all forgotten? Because I can't. Not yet."

"Tell me, Nick, are you happy? Hmm? Because I'm not."

"I'm trying."

"Please," Carla begged. "Please, just be honest with me."

"_You_ want honesty? Okay. You're right, I'm not happy. But I want to be. And I do love you."

"It's not enough. Not anymore. I'm sorry, but… I think you should move out."

Nick stood staring at Carla; shocked, incredulous that she was the one trying to call the shots, even though she was the guilty party, she was the one in the wrong.

"Has this got something to do with Peter being back?"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"It's a reasonable enough question, don't you think? The day he comes back is the same day you finish with me!"

"If that's what you really think of me, then… I dunno, Nick, I give up."

Carla grabbed her handbag from the counter and marched to the door before turning back to look at her husband; a final plea for him to let go of the hurt, to give their marriage a fighting chance. But Nick's gaze remained fixed on the bench top, stubborn to the last. When finally he did look up, ready at last to beg her to stay, it was too late; she was gone.

* * *

"Alright, Peter?" Michelle greeted Peter as he sidled up to the bar of the Rovers. "What can I get you?"

"Orange juice, please, Michelle."

"Steve! Can you sort Peter out? I'm taking a break."

"What?" Steve asked. "You can't leave me on me own! We're rushed off our…feet."

But Michelle ignored him and, collecting a bottle of red and two wine glasses on her way through, ushered a newly-arrived Carla to the relative quiet of one of the Rovers booths.

"What's wrong?" Michelle had known the moment she had clapped eyes on Carla that something had happened.

"We've split up."

"What? You and Nick?"

"I can't do it anymore, Chelle," Carla confessed sadly. "I thought if we made it through the wedding then everything would be alright."

"But it's not?"

"No," Carla shook her head. "He can't get past what I did. I don't blame him, I really don't. But, the longer we try to cling onto something that's already gone, the worse everything gets."

"Are you sure about this?" Michelle reached out and held Carla's hand, her thumb gently stroking her skin. "I know how much you two love each other."

"It's not enough. Not without trust. Or forgiveness."

"I'm sorry, babe. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, umm…" Carla glanced up at the bar where Peter was leaning against the bar, a glass of orange juice in his hand, watching Carla and Michelle with… what? Interest? Concern? Amusement? Carla couldn't tell; all she knew was that his presence irritated her. "No, I'm going home."

Without another word, Carla rose from her seat and, after planting an affectionate kiss on Michelle's cheek, made her escape.

"Carla, wait!" Michelle called after her best friend. But it was too late, she was gone.

She made a move to get back behind the bar, back to work, when she briefly locked eyes with Peter.

"Don't you dare," Michelle warned him. But he ignored her. He set down his unfinished orange juice on the bar and made a beeline for the door that Carla had just disappeared through. "Peter! You'll only make things worse!"

But Peter was determined.

* * *

"Carla!" Peter called after Carla's retreating figure as she made her way back home. "Wait up!"

On hearing Peter's voice, Carla's stride faltered for the briefest of moments before she recollected herself and continued her walk, never looking back or showing an outward sign that she'd heard Peter.

But Peter wasn't about to give up that easily; he jogged along the cobbles under the clear moonlit sky to catch up with her.

"Hey," Peter matched Carla's stride and walked alongside her. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"I thought if I ignored you, you'd get the hint and leave me alone."

Still Carla refused to look at him.

"Come on, Carla, you know me better than that."

"What do you want, Peter?"

"Honestly?"

"That'd make a nice change."

"I want you."

Peter's confession had the desired effect; Carla stopped in her tracks and turned to face Peter. He ignored the look of scorn on her face, her attention was enough for now.

"I'm a married woman," she declared.

"Not for much longer from what I've heard."

"My marriage is none of your business."

"Maybe," Peter mused. "If you were happy with him. But you're not, it's obvious."

"Obvious? If you were so clued in on my feelings and how obvious they were, then you'd know to keep out of my way."

"Don't be like that. I'm only saying this because I care."

"You should've stayed away, Peter." Carla declared. "If you really cared, that's what you'd do."

"Why's that, Car?"

"Why's what?" Carla's frustration with Peter was reaching an all-time high.

"Why does my presence threaten you so much. Or threaten you and Nick should I say?"

"You are just as arrogant as ever. The size of your ego. As if I would ever look twice at you again."

This time when Carla stormed off, Peter didn't follow her; he simply watched, a satisfied grin on his face.

* * *

Carla opened the front door to her flat with more than a little hesitation; she didn't want to have another argument with Nick and quietly hoped that he had already gone. But, when only silence greeted her and the lonely night stretched out before her, she couldn't deny that she was disappointed he hadn't waited for her, stayed to say goodbye.

Then she saw him and, with a sigh of relief, she realised he had waited for her after all. She smiled instinctively when she saw him sat at his usual spot on the sofa. She glanced briefly at the spot next to him, her spot, the spot she used to sit and snuggle up to him. Back in the days when they were happy. The smile faded from her face when she remembered that those days were over.

"I hope you don't mind," Nick said, his voice low and gentle. "I wanted to say goodbye properly."

"That's fine," she responded with a faint smile.

"I've packed a bag," he informed her as he rose to his feet, nodding to the overnight bag he'd left near the front door. "I'll organise to get the rest of my stuff some other day."

"Where will you go?"

"To my mums."

"Right."

"Hey, at least you won't have to spend Christmas Day with my family."

"Every cloud, ey?"

"Yeah…"

"Well then…" she faltered as they stood face-to-face, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

"I guess I'll see you round?"

"Guess so," she shrugged oh-so casually.

They awkwardly moved towards each other for that final farewell hug. His arms reached around her, hers around him. And then all awkwardness was gone as they melted into each other's arms. Nick sighed as he gently stroked Carla's hair; she stifled a sob as she buried her face into his chest.

But, as much as they wished they could stay like that forever, they knew they must part. And so, without another word, they let go of each other and Nick left; once again, Carla was alone.

* * *

"She's finally come to her senses, has she?"

Nick ignored Peter's jibes; he carried on walking, stony-faced and silent, to his mums, his overnight bag in his hand.

"I'm surprised it took her this long to be fair," Peter couldn't resist winding Nick up; more than that, he was thoroughly enjoying it. "I woulda thought you'd got the message when she hooked up with the chef. I mean, come on, Nick, the chef?"

"Whoa!" Peter laughed recklessly as Nick finally lost his cool, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his leather jacket and shoving him up against the wall.

For a moment the two men stood, nose to nose; Nick's rage was obvious in his eyes, in Peter's there was only amusement.

"You're not worth it!" Nick spat as he shoved Peter to the ground. Not that Peter cared, he merely laughed. "You stay away from Carla."

"Why should I?" Peter challenged him as he dragged himself to his feet.

"She's my wife."

"That didn't stop you when it was you sniffing around my wife."

"So, what?" Nick asked incredulously. "Is this payback? That's very mature, Peter."

"No," Peter shook his head. "It's just a bonus being able to give you a taste of your own medicine. No, I don't really care about you, Nick, I couldn't give a toss. I care about Carla. And I'm gonna win her back if it's the last thing I do. You watch."

"You're deluded if you think she'd ever give you another chance."

"Well, she's going to need a shoulder to cry on now that you're out of the picture."

"Me and Carla," Nick stepped close to Peter and spoke with a quiet intensity. "Not that it's any of your business, but this… it's temporary. We're not splitting up. So do yourself a favour and leave us alone."

Nick turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Peter to take his parting shot.

"You keep telling yourself that, Nicky boy, while you're kipping on your mama's couch!"

Having satisfactorily seen off Nick, Peter turned and made a beeline for Victoria Court. He wanted to see… whatever there was to see in the aftermath of Nick's departure from the matrimonial bed.

Peering up to where he knew Carla's flat was, Peter was surprised to see a dim figure on the balcony, leaning up against the balustrade, staring out into the dark night. Carla. Peter ducked out of sight, not wanting to be seen. Lighting a cigarette to pass the time, he was happy to wait and to watch.

Carla stood in the darkness on her balcony, wondering where Nick was right now, what he was doing, what he had told his mother about her. She imagined the poison that Gail was filling Nick's head with. She remembered with a shudder the hate Gail had thrown at her the day of her wedding; the ferocity with which she'd slapped her. Not that she hadn't deserved it; she had. She had hurt Gail's precious son and nothing she had done since that day had been able to make up for it. Gail would no doubt be gloating right now. Telling Nick 'I told you so'.

As her mind wandered into realms unseen, her other senses dragged her back to the present. Her nose twitched, she breathed in deeply. That familiar smell that she'd lived with for years and missed just as many. Peter's cigarettes.

In the dark, Peter watched in alarm as Carla's gaze searched the area he was standing. Did she know he was there? He considered stepping forward and revealing himself but thought better of it; instead he slipped back into the shadows, leaving Carla alone with the grief of another failed relationship.

As the smell faded, so did Carla's suspicions; of course Peter wouldn't be lurking in the dark underneath her balcony. She laughed at the idea, at how she'd let her imagination run away with her. Shaking her head with a smile, she slipped back inside her flat and pulled the door closed, effectively shutting out the cold dark night along with the prying eyes of the ghosts of her past.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think I might head off soon, Chelle."

Carla stood up from her spot perched at the bar of the Rovers with a sigh, signalling her readiness to leave.

"Oh, Car, no," Michelle protested. "It's Christmas Day, you can't go home alone."

"I'm not really in a festive mood, ya know. I'd rather just leave and spare everyone from dealing with my mood."

"I can't talk you out of it?" Michelle asked hopefully, but Carla shook her head emphatically. "Free booze until closing?"

"Nice try, but I'm off."

"Okay," Michelle moved quickly to the other side of the bar and, wrapping her arms around her best friend, pulled her in for a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, babe."

"Merry Christmas."

Oh, ey," Michelle nodded towards the door. "Ex number one has just walked through the door."

"What?" Carla turned around in time to clock Peter's arrogant swagger before he slid into a booth. "It's definitely time to leave then. Bye." Carla gave Michelle a final kiss goodbye and made a beeline for the exit.

Peter watched Carla as she walked towards the door; she glanced back at him, a half-hearted death stare aimed in his direction. So distracted was she by his presence that she didn't see ex number two walk in the door.

"Oh," Carla gasped, cursing to herself as she felt the colour rise in her cheeks. "Sorry, Nick, I didn't see you."

"That's alright," Nick smiled at her. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"You have a good day?"

"Not really."

"Are you coming, Nick?" Gail asked pointedly as she made her way, along with the extended Platt tribe, to an empty booth.

"In a minute mum," Nick brushed her off, choosing to ignore his mums less-than-subtle warning look, and turned back to Carla. "I was hoping I'd bump into you."

"Oh?" Carla tried to ignore the fact that her heart had suddenly started beating harder and faster and prayed that her colour had returned to normal.

"I got you a present."

"Oh, Nick, I…"

"Can we go out back for a minute?"

"Umm… Yeah, sure."

* * *

"So…" Carla looked up at Nick awkwardly as they stood in the rear yard of the Rovers, alone for the first time since Nick had moved out.

"Here." Nick handed a small exquisitely gift-wrapped and beribboned box to Carla. "I'd already bought it before we… you may as well have it."

"I didn't get you anything," Carla stammered apologetically.

"It's okay," Nick reassured her. "We've split up, remember, you don't need to buy me presents anymore."

Carla carefully unwrapped the gift; inside the wrapping was a small jewellery box; inside the jewellery box was a ring.

"It's an eternity ring," Nick explained. "I know I should've waited for our first anniversary but… honestly, I wasn't sure we would make it so I decided to give it to you at Christmas. I thought… well, I thought you needed to know that I was committed… to us, to our marriage."

"Oh, Nick," Carla glanced from the ring, a simple but elegant platinum band with small diamonds embedded all the way round it, up to Nick's face. "It's beautiful, but umm… I can't accept this."

She held the box out for Nick to take back; he reached out but, instead of taking it, closed her hand over the box.

"It's yours," Nick insisted. "I bought it for you. If you don't want it, you can sell it, stick in a drawer, wear it, whatever you want."

For a moment the two of them stood, Nick's hands wrapped around Carla's. She gazed up at him; on the one hand, she didn't want to lead him on but, on the other, she didn't want to hurt his feelings by refusing the gift.

"Thank you," Carla said sincerely, the prospect of seeing yet another pained expression on Nick's face too much for her to bear. "It's beautiful."

Carla reached up and gave Nick a soft kiss on his cheek. But, instead of pulling away, she lingered. Their lips moved, as if guided by a magnetic force, towards the other's lips, their hands wrapped around each other's bodies, and they kissed. Not a mere 'thank you' kiss, but an 'I miss you' kiss, an 'I love you' kiss even.

Half-hidden behind a lattice screen, Peter watched on in horror as Carla and Nick kissed passionately. Although he'd known in his head that they were married and would therefore have kissed and made love and… he shuddered at the thought. But, for the first time, the reality of what that meant struck him like a knife through his heart. He retreated without a sound and hurried back into the Rovers, leaving husband and wife alone to share this intimate moment together, just the two of them.

Finally, completely oblivious that their tryst had been witnessed, they broke apart, each with a smile on their face.

"Merry Christmas."

* * *

Peter pushed open the door of Roy's Rolls, his mind focused entirely on the bacon barm with lashings of brown sauce he had been daydreaming about since he had woken that morning.

But instead the sight that greeted him when he entered, pushing all thoughts of crispy fried bacon temporarily out of his mind, was Carla. She was sat at a table on her own, her back to him. He glanced around, half expecting to see Nick proudly reclaim his place opposite his wife but, on closer inspection, he saw only one coffee mug on the table, only one plate bearing the remnants of her breakfast in front of her. She was alone, and he couldn't help but rejoice at the realisation.

"Coffee please, Roy. And a bacon barm, plenty of brown sauce." Peter ordered with a smile before slipping into the seat opposite Carla, uninvited and possibly unwanted; he wouldn't know unless he tried.

"Who said you could sit there?"

"Do you want me to move?"

"Hmm… No, you can stay."

"Gee, thanks," Peter said with a grin. "What's this, then? You opening a jewellers or summat?"

Peter reached out and picked up the three rings Carla had been toying with. Carla took them from Peter's hand and, one by one, laid them down on the table.

"Engagement ring. Wedding ring. Eternity ring."

"Eternity?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised. "A bit soon for that innit?"

"Nick gave it me for Christmas."

"Oh, I see," Peter mused. "You're not wearing it?"

"I'm not a hypocrite."

"So…" Peter took a deep breath before asking the question he wasn't sure he was ready to hear the answer to. "You're not getting back together?"

"That's none of your business."

"Fair enough."

Peter stared at Carla; she was staring down at her rings, slipping them on and off her finger absently.

"I guess you know what it feels like now," Peter observed quietly. "Wanting forgiveness for what was at most a terrible mistake."

Carla's eyes flew up to meet Peters; instantly he could see the anger burning in them, the fire that threatened to leap from them and burn him alive.

"How dare you," she scowled at him, her eyes narrow with contempt. "How dare you compare what you did with Tina to me and Robert."

"I made a mistake, you made a mistake."

"You made a 'mistake' as you so brazenly put it, over and over again for months on end. I made a mistake and regretted it instantly. It's not the same. It's not even in the same universe."

"I hurt someone I love," Peter carried on with his comparison, determined to make Carla understand. "You hurt someone you love. You expected forgiveness but I can't?"

"That's where you're wrong," Carla shook her head scornfully. "I didn't expect forgiveness. Did I hope for it? Yes, foolishly, I did. But I didn't get it. Because I didn't deserve it. Just like you. You don't deserve my forgiveness and guess what, you're never gonna get it."

Carla rose to her feet, pushing her chair back with such force that it slammed against the chair behind her and teetered wildly on its four legs.

"Carla…" Peter spoke in that soft husky voice that, in the past, would've caused Carla to go weak and do whatever he asked of her, but now the magic had gone, now his voice had no power over her.

"Leave," Carla's voice was calm yet icy cold, "me alone."

With one last glare at Peter, a look designed to wither him on the spot, Carla turned on her heel and hurried from the café, desperate to get away, to be on her own, away from the reminders of all her past mistakes. But instead she ran straight into Gail.

"Oh, god!" Carla exclaimed in frustration.

"No, not god," Gail observed with a hint of sarcasm. "Just your mother-in-law. Not for much longer thank goodness."

"I'm not in the mood, Gail," Carla tried to walk away, but Gail was determined to speak her mind.

"That's too bad, Carla, because I am in the mood."

Carla chose to ignore her; in the past, she'd found that was often the best way to deal with Gail, and pushed past her. But Gail grabbed hold of her arm and refused to let go. She was sick and tired of biting her tongue while Nick and Carla had tried to make their marriage work but, now that it was over for good, Gail wasn't prepared to stay silent any longer.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," she rounded on Carla. "How dare you walk away from my son, throw him away like he's nothing, when you're the guilty one. You, Carla! Everything comes down to you! And yet you walk around like –"

"Gail, please," Carla begged as she tried to pull away from her mother-in-law's grasp.

"You're poison, Carla," Gail spat her venom. "You poison everything you touch!"

"That's enough!" Nick declared as he prised Gail's hand off Carla's arm.

"But, Nick, sweetheart," Gail protested. "She deserves it after everything she's –"

"I said that's enough," Nick glared at his mum before turning to Carla. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine."

"You headed home?"

"Yeah."

"I'll walk with you," Nick offered. "If that's okay?"

"Thanks," Carla smiled at him gratefully.

"Nick!" Gail called after him, but he ignored her and focused his attention solely on his wife.

* * *

"I'm so sorry you got dragged into that," Carla said apologetically as she let them both into her flat.

"I'm sorry my mum talked to you like that," Nick shook his head in disgust. "She was way out of line."

"You think?" Carla laughed bitterly. "I think I deserved everything I got. And more."

"Yeah, she's very, umm… protective?"

They both laughed; Carla had quickly figured out during her and Nick's short relationship what he had known his whole life, that Gail had an unhealthy obsession with her first-born son.

"I guess I can't blame her for that."

For a moment, Nick looked at Carla with an intensity that made her blush and look away.

"Do you want a brew?" she asked, busying herself with kettle and mugs and tea bags, as she desperately tried to avoid his gaze.

Soon enough they were settled into their old spots on the sofa, their spots side by side, their legs almost touching, but not quite. Still, the consciousness that her husband was so close to her, that she could feel the heat from his body, drove Carla almost to distraction.

"So…" she began awkwardly. "How's things?" But, before Nick could answer, Carla burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Nick asked, confused by Carla's laughter.

"Us! Sitting here casually," Carla explained with a wry smile. "Me asking you how you are as if…"

"As if what?" Nick's voice was suddenly thick with emotion.

"I dunno," Carla shook her head, confused. "As if we were mere acquaintances and not…"

"Husband and wife," Nick finished her sentence, shifting in his seat so that he was facing her. "That's still what we are."

But Carla couldn't face him, her gaze dropped to her hands that fidgeted in her lap. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"What do you mean? Pushed me?"

"I shouldn't have pushed you into taking me back. I should've just let you go back in May when it all came out."

"I didn't want to be let go," Nick whispered hoarsely. He reached out and, placing his hand underneath her chin, raised her head and raised her eyes to meet his. "I still don't."

Nick moved his hand to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. Carla stared back at him, searching his eyes for… what? That forgiveness she had been craving so desperately for months? But then she stopped searching. Right here, right now, in this moment in time, she didn't care if she had his forgiveness; in this moment, she simply wanted him.

She rose to her feet and, locking eyes with Nick, leaned down so that her hair tumbled over his shoulders and placed a soft sensuous kiss on his mouth. She held out her hand to him, a look in her eye that he could not mistake. He eagerly took hold of her hand and followed her as she led him towards what had been, until very recently, their shared bedroom.

* * *

Carla sighed with contentment as Nick ran his fingers lightly down her naked back as they lay together, Nick's big spoon to Carla's little, on their matrimonial bed. As his hand moved around her body to the front, caressing her tummy and up to gently fondle her breasts, he nuzzled into her neck, kissing her softly along her shoulder blade.

"Hmm…" Carla murmured, reaching her hand back, running her fingers through Nick's hair, and pulling him close to her, kissing his lips, nibbling on them gently. "That was… unexpected."

"Nice though," Nick whispered as he planted little kisses along her jawline.

_Bzzzz bzzzz_

"Ignore it," Nick murmured, pulling Carla's body closer into his, not ready to let her go, not again.

Carla turned her body over to face him, skimming her fingernails lightly down his chest and reaching down to where his –

_Bzzzz bzzzz_

"Damnit!" Carla swore softly. "Hold that thought," she whispered, kissing him on the lips, her tongue sweeping over his lips, a promise of what was to come. "I'll get rid of them."

Nick rested his head back against the pillow and watched, a knowing smile on his face, as Carla slipped out of bed and covered her nakedness with a satin kimono-style dressing gown. She flashed him one last satisfied smile before hurrying out of the bedroom.

_Bzzzz bzzzz_

"Alright, alright," Carla muttered to herself as she hastily unlatched the front door. "I'm coming!" She pulled the door open, shocked to find Peter stood there, his best lost puppy dog expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

"Apologising."

"What for?"

"For the things I said to you before," he began to explain. "You know, at Roys?"

"Right," Carla faltered, taken off guard by his apology. "I, umm…"

"Our situations were completely different, I know that. I was wrong to suggest otherwise."

"Well, thanks for coming over," Carla said, anxious to get Peter out of her flat before… what exactly was she worried about Peter seeing? Peter possibly misunderstanding?

"Oh," Peter was taken aback by Carla's dismissive attitude. "Couldn't I, I dunno, come in?"

"It's not really a good time right now, Peter."

Then Carla's worst fears became reality.

"Peter," Nick greeted his adversary with good cheer, delighted to be able to rub Peter's face in his and Carla's rediscovered passion.

Peter stared in horror as Nick, dressed in only a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, left Peter with little doubt as to what he'd interrupted. He watched as Nick sauntered over to where Carla stood, the colour slowly rising in her cheeks.

"What can we do for you?" Nick asked, his eyebrow raised expectantly as he draped his arm around Carla's shoulder and kissed her softly on the temple.

"N-nothing," Peter stammered. "It can wait, I can see you're busy."

Peter turned to leave.

"Peter!" Carla called after him, but he refused to stop, he couldn't stop, he couldn't let Nick see the devastation that was clearly written all over his face.

"Is he okay?" Nick asked innocently. "He seemed, I don't know, a little off."

"How the hell would I know?" Carla bit back, suddenly irritable and wanting desperately to be alone.

"Let's go back to bed," Nick whispered in Carla's ear as he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, bending down to plant a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.

"Oh, Nick, I…" Carla trailed off.

"What?" Nick murmured as his hands glided up and down Carla's body. "It's Boxing Day, neither of us has to work. Hmm…? Come on."

Nick grabbed Carla's hand and tried to lead her back into the bedroom, but she resisted.

"Nick," Carla faltered. "What happened today… it doesn't change anything."

"What?"

"Oh, come on, Nick. One bunk up doesn't magically fix all our problems."

"It's a start."

"Maybe."

"Right," Nick said with a bitter laugh. "So you were just using me for… sex? And now you've had your fun you want me to go?"

"I wasn't using you, I didn't plan for that to happen. I'm not sorry it did."

"Me neither."

"So let's just leave things on a positive note… for now."

"For now…" Nick mused on those words thoughtfully. "Okay," Nick nodded in reluctant agreement, before adding with a cheeky grin. "Just so you know… if ever you want to, you know, have some fun… I wouldn't complain."

"Of course you wouldn't," Carla laughed, her good humour slowly returning. Then she kissed him softly, her hand reaching around his neck, her fingers gently caressing his skin and raking up through his hair. She didn't know if she and Nick had a future anymore; but one thing she did know for sure is that she wasn't prepared to let him go completely. Not just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey!" Nick called out to Carla, jogging to catch up to her as she walked down the cobbles. "Where are you off to?"

"Me?" Carla asked. "I'm just off to see Chelle."

"Right," Nick said as he fell into step next to Carla. "Won't she be busy getting ready for tonight?"

"I could say the same for you with the Bistro, what with it being New Year's Eve and all."

"Then you would be wrong," Nick said somewhat mysteriously. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh, yeah?" Carla asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yeah…" Now that it had come to it, Nick was suddenly nervous about his proposition. "You know how we'd booked that cottage for New Year's up in the Lake District? Just you and me and an open fire, some nice wine and cheese and a four-poster bed…"

"I remember." Carla recalled how, after the disaster that had been New Year's 2015, she had been determined to make this year memorable for all the right reasons.

"I never cancelled after we... you know." Nick informed her. "I thought, maybe, we could go up there this afternoon, spend some time together. Just the two of us. What do you say?"

"I don't know, Nick. All this on and off, fooling around when the mood takes us, it's… confusing. I think we need a clean break."

"Okay, then," Nick jumped at what he believed Carla was implying. "Let's stop with the fooling around, the on and off, and get back together properly."

"Nick..."

"I love you, Carla."

"I love you, too. I do. But you know how things have been between us these last few months. After the things I've done… It's too much. And sooner or later all that love will turn to hate. And I never want you to hate me. I couldn't bear it."

"I could never..."

"You already do... a part of you. Don't deny it." Carla kissed Nick softly on the cheek. "Happy birthday."

She turned and hurried away before Nick could see the tears that had begun to fall freely from her eyes and splash down her cheeks.

Nick stood rooted to the spot and watched her go, a wave of hopelessness engulfing him. He couldn't face that he'd lost her, all because of his own hard-heartedness, his unwillingness to forgive, his desire to punish. So he punished himself instead.

"Aaarrrghhh!" He cried out in pain as he smashed his fist against the brick wall. He rubbed his knuckles gingerly as the blood began to seep through the graze. He didn't regret his violent outburst. No, strangely it made him feel better, it made him sharp and focused on his goal; to win Carla back.

* * *

'Ugh! That's all I need,' Carla thought to herself as she spied Peter on the other side of the street. She tried to inconspicuously wipe away her tears, to hide from him her distress.

But of course Peter saw and, Peter being Peter, he couldn't leave her alone; he crossed the street, hurrying to catch up with her.

"Carla!"

Carla tried desperately to ignore him, quickening her step to outpace him.

He was undeterred.

"Carla!" He tried again. "I know you can hear me."

But still she ignored him, changing tack and heading towards her car that was parked outside Victoria Court.

Unlocking her car door with the click of her remote, she swung into the driver's seat and fired the ignition. As she shifted gear into reverse, Peter opened the passenger door and slid into the seat next to her.

"Get out!" She ordered, but he refused to budge and merely secured himself in place with the seat belt. "Peter!"

"So…" Peter said, a cheeky grin on his face. "Where are we going?"

"You're really doing this?" Carla asked incredulously.

"Looks like it."

"Fine." With a squeal of tyres, she reversed out of her parking spot and, shifting into drive, tore down the street. "Have it your way."

"I haven't seen you around much since Christmas," Peter observed casually after they had been driving in silence for a few minutes.

But Carla didn't reply.

"Spending time with your husband, I take it?"

Still Carla remained silent.

"You do know that a conversation requires more than one person to speak, don't you?"

Carla focused her energies on the road ahead, unconsciously navigating away from the narrow streets of Weatherfield towards the open road and the countryside beyond.

"Carla…" Peter continued to tease her, to provoke her into a reaction.

As Carla pulled up at a set of red traffic lights, she turned to face Peter.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You've been crying," Peter ignored her question and reached out, gently caressing her tear-stained cheeks. She didn't stop him or pull away.

_Beep beep!_

An impatient honk of the horn from the driver behind broke the spell. Peter pulled his hand away, while Carla accelerated.

"Yeah, I've been crying, cause you can't take a hint and leave me alone!" She fired back at him, her defences back up and stronger than ever.

"I know you find me annoying right now," Peter said, unusually self-aware. "That's fine, I can cope with that. That feeling will fade."

"What do you want, Peter?" Carla asked, glancing at him sideways. "You're everywhere I turn!"

"I've missed you," Peter confessed. "I thought we could spend some time together."

"Did you get a bump on the head or summat?"

"No." Peter shook his head, confused. "Why?"

"Have you forgotten why we broke up? Everything that happened when we were married? What you got up to on our wedding night?"

"Of course not."

"Then why the hell do you think I want anything to do with you now?"

"Do you want me to be serious?"

"It'd make a nice change."

"I know how much I hurt you, I do, and I will forever be sorry for that. Hand on heart, I wasn't planning on doing this, on interfering with your life when I came back. I knew you'd moved on and I was going to respect that, even if I do think Nick Tilsley's a first-class prat. But, as soon as I saw you that first day… The way you looked at me… Like you wanted to throttle me. Or kiss me. Or both. I knew without a doubt when I looked at you that there was something there. I knew it. I wouldn't have chased you like I have if I really thought it was over. You and me, Carla, it'll never be over. Never."

Carla didn't respond straight away; how could she after Peter had laid his soul bare like that. She'd asked for honesty, but she hadn't expected that. She couldn't even refute what he was saying; she didn't know herself if it was true. Was he right? Was there something still between them? Would she ever truly be free of him? Those feelings she'd felt for him, that love that she once believed she would die sooner than live without, had those feelings really gone away? Or were they just buried deep; deep enough so that she could move on with her life without him, deep enough so that she didn't completely fall apart with him gone.

"You've got a vivid imagination if you believe any of that."

She was determined to keep those feelings buried; her self-preservation depended on it.

But Peter didn't give up hope; that long pause before she answered him told him everything he needed to know. "Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing."

"Whatever I feel, it doesn't matter. I'm married to Nick. I choose Nick."

"You're better off without him."

"I love him."

"He's arrogant. Treats you like some kind of prize."

"He treats me with respect," Carla said defiantly. "He doesn't lie to me. He doesn't cheat on me. He won't break my heart, not like you did."

"I'm sorry," Peter said, watching sadly as a tear slipped down Carla's cheek. "I promise, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am. And that I love you. That's never changed, Carla, that never will change."

Carla turned to face Peter, searching his face, his eyes, his soul. Did he really mean all these things he was saying? Could she trust him?

The real question was, would she ever have the opportunity to find out?

"Carla!" Peter yelled, too late as the car drifted into the wrong lane. "Watch out!"

Carla swerved sharply, a last-second desperate attempt to avoid the oncoming car. For a moment, they were safe, the danger had been averted. But, in her panic, she had instinctively overcorrected, causing the car to skid off the road and careen down the embankment.

With a sickening crunch of metal smashing against metal, the front of the car crumpled in upon itself as it lurched forcefully into the trunk of a tree and came to a shuddering and final halt.

As smoke rose slowly from the engine, and the dying creaks and groans of the metal structure faded away, all within the car was silent.

* * *

Carla's eyes opened to a strange world. She blinked, trying to focus on her surroundings. To no avail. Her eyelids drooped once again, shutting off the light as she slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Carla." A familiar voice beckoned her back from the darkness. "Carla!"

She struggled to open her eyes. Flickering light, a dark shape, blurred figures flashing across her vision. She closed her eyes again.

"No! No no no!" The voice called her back. "Try to stay awake, love. Keep your eyes open."

Carla obeyed the voice. She didn't know who the voice belonged to, but she knew instinctively that she could trust it. Her head lolled to the side as she put all her energies into keeping her eyes open, into staying with the light.

"That's my girl."

Slowly the sights and sounds surrounding Carla came back into focus. The trees, depressingly brown and bare in the dreary winter landscape, with the clear sky above, almost unnatural in its blueness, such a stark contrast to the frozen earth below.

She blinked again, trying to rid from her eyes the obstructions floating across her vision when, with a start of surprise, she realised it was the shattered windscreen of her sleek black Mercedes that was obscuring her view. She couldn't understand why. Had something happened? Was that why her car was surrounded by people? People in special protective clothing, high vis vests, helmets, walkie-talkies. And machinery. She watched in horror as these people carried huge cutters and spreaders towards her car; towards her.

She turned her head to face her passenger, the owner of that voice.

"Peter?" she croaked, the look on his face the final straw as the panic began to set in. "What –?"

"Okay, it's okay," he reassured her. "You need to stay calm."

But calm was the last thing Carla was. "I need to get out…" Her breath came in great gasps as she frantically tried to get out of the car, scrabbling at the door with her hands, and trying to swing her legs out from underneath the steering wheel.

"Aaarrrrggggghhhhh!" She cried out in agony. For the first time, she looked down at her legs and realised that the collision had pushed the crumpled metal into the cabin, where it was pressing against her legs and trapping them in place. The more she struggled to free herself, the more the sharp metal shards dug into her flesh.

"Oh my god, Peter!"

"Relax, okay? We're gonna get you out."

"Oh, god!" Carla tried to be brave, but couldn't keep her voice from wavering, or the tears from her eyes.

Peter grabbed hold of her hand and kissed it, pressing it to his lips.

"Are you okay?" She turned to him with concern.

"Me?" Peter stared at Carla, surprised by her question. "I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Carla shook her head.

"Do you remember what we were talking about? Just before…"

"No! I don't know! I don't care what we were talking about!" Carla yelled impatiently, with herself or Peter she wasn't too sure. "I'm sorry, I'm…"

"It's okay," Peter said, stroking her hand that he still held in his. "It doesn't matter."

"I wish…" Carla lost her train of thought as she looked up at Peter's face. "What?" She asked, following his line of sight to a group of fireys who had stopped work and were crouched down and peering underneath the wreckage of the car.

"What's going on?" Peter called out to their rescuers.

"I'm going to need you to get out of the vehicle, sir."

"No," Peter flat-out refused. "Not without Carla."

"I don't have time to argue with you –"

"Then tell me what's going on."

"Alright," the rescuer agreed. "The car is leaking petrol. Badly. We need to get you out of here… just in case."

"I'm not leaving."

"Please, sir."

"Do what you need to do. But I'm not leaving this car until you get Carla out."

"Fine," the rescuer knew when he was beat. "As long as you understand the potential consequences."

"I do."

"Peter," Carla whispered to him as soon as they were alone. "You should go."

"No."

"Please, Peter," Carla begged him. "If… if the worst happens…"

"It won't," Peter declared confidently. Whether he truly felt it or not, he was determined to show no fear in front of Carla. "Not before they get you out."

"You're a fool, you know that?" Carla said jokingly.

"You have mentioned that to me before, once or twice."

Carla couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright," came a strange voice from outside the wreckage. "I need you to be ready. When we make the final cut, we're gonna get you out of there quick smart. So be ready to move. Okay?"

"Okay," Carla nodded in anticipation.

"And sir," he spoke directly to Peter. "You need to get out. Don't worry, you can stay with her, but if you could at least get out of the car. We don't want to have to rescue you as well."

"Go on," Carla encouraged Peter to let go of her hand and get out of the car.

Then she was alone. Even though there were probably a dozen or so emergency rescue workers milling around the car and Peter, true to his word, had stuck close by, she was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of solitude, of being alone. Because she alone was the one trapped in that wreckage; she alone was the one who couldn't escape the inferno that threatened to engulf her.

She tried not to think of the possibilities as the jaws of life were used to cut her free; the 'what if' questions that plagued her mind if they couldn't free her in time. Instead, she let her mind wander back to before the accident, to what Peter had been saying. What had he been saying? she wondered. She tried to remember, knowing somehow that it was important.

Then she felt hands; hands underneath her legs, and hands underneath her arms, pulling her free, pulling her to safety.

"Take her," someone commanded Peter, handing Carla over, almost throwing her into his arms. "We've got a flame! The extinguisher. Run!" This final order to Peter.

Peter tore his gaze from the small flame that had appeared underneath the bonnet of the wreckage and focused on Carla, half carrying and half dragging her to safety. Her legs useless for the moment, Carla could do little but allow herself to be carried away from danger.

As she glanced back over her shoulder, a sudden bright flash temporarily blinded her. The blast lifted both her and Peter off their feet and tossed them onto the ground. There they huddled, each trying to protect the other from the debris that was falling to the ground around them. Their faces close together, their eyes locked into the one gaze, they took comfort from knowing they weren't alone. Whatever happened, they had each other.

* * *

"I wish you would've taken the doctor's advice and spent the night in hospital," Peter gently admonished Carla as he helped her over the threshold and into her flat.

"Nonsense," Carla brushed off his concerns. "I've got plenty of painkillers. I'd much rather spend the night in my own bed."

"I know there's no point arguing with you, so…"

"Good lad."

"Can I at least do summat for you, I dunno, make you a brew?"

"Actually, I really fancy a quick shower."

"I mean, I guess I could help you with that."

"Nice try," Carla said, a knowing smile playing on the corners of her mouth. "But I think I can manage by myself."

"I could fix you something to eat?" Peter suggested hopefully, not wanting to leave Carla on her own.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Carla agreed. "I think there's some eggs in the pantry?"

"Okay, omelette it is."

* * *

Carla padded silently back into the living room after her shower, her damp hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, her body snugly ensconced in a fluffy white terry-towelling hooded robe.

She watched as Peter studied the framed photographs on the sideboard, the photographs of her and Michelle, even some newer ones posing somewhat awkwardly with her new family; Johnny, Aidan and Kate. And then there were the photographs of Carla with Nick. These were the ones that Peter was paying particular attention to. He picked up a framed photograph of husband and wife, a selfie they had taken while on one of their house-hunting trips to Devon. Even though they had decided against moving there after the wedding, the place still held a special place in their hearts and in their memories.

Without a word, Carla took the frame out of Peter's hands and placed it back on the shelf.

"You two look happy," he observed quietly.

"We were."

"And now…?"

"I honestly don't know," Carla admitted sadly. "I think too much has happened."

"You mean the affair?"

"It wasn't an affair."

"Sorry."

"If I'd told him right after it happened, I think we could've got through it. But it was everything that came after."

"Tracy…"

"Not just Tracy. I was just as guilty. And then, holding on so tight after the wedding… instead of fixing things, it's done the opposite, but in the slowest, most painful way possible."

"So, what are you gonna do now?"

"The question is, do I keep throwing good love after bad, or just cut my losses?"

"Do you remember that night, just after I'd got out of prison. When I begged you for another chance?"

"I remember," Carla nodded. "I couldn't believe you had the nerve."

"Exactly," Peter said. "Some things, you can't force them, you have to know when to walk away, trust in the healing power of time. That night, you rejecting me like that, I'm not gonna say it didn't hurt like hell, because it did. The thought that I had lost you forever… But, even back then, I knew you'd done the right thing."

"Are you saying that I did the wrong thing by forcing Nick to stay with me?"

"Don't put words into my mouth. No. I can only speak to my own experience. Only you can judge what's right for you and Nick."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"You have to be honest with me."

"Of course."

"Why did you stay with me in the car?" Carla asked. "Why didn't you save yourself when you had the chance?"

"You really think I'd leave you in danger?"

"You could've died," Carla rightly pointed out.

This merely provoked laughter from Peter. "You don't get it, do you?"

"So tell me."

"You're making the mistake of thinking that me dying would be worse than me living in a world that didn't have you in it."

Carla couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes; she searched Peter's and saw the same tears reflected back at her.

"Carla…" he whispered, a quiet plea especially for her.

"Don't speak," she breathed. "I can't…"

Silently, without another word, Peter reached out and, cupping Carla's face in his hand, caressed her cheek, wiping away the tear that fell down from her eyes. She leaned her face into his hand, comforted by the warm familiarity of his touch.

Then, as if with one fell swoop, all her defences were broken down and the dam burst open, she kissed him. She reached up and clasped his face between her hands, pressing her lips against his; her mouth open, her tongue sweeping across his lips, her tongue pressing into his mouth.

Peter ran his hands down the soft and fuzzy fabric of Carla's robe and deftly untied the looped belt before slipping his hands beneath to where her naked body was aching for his touch.

He pushed her robe to the side and, while his hands roamed freely over her body, he leaned down and planted soft kisses over her delicate skin, from her neck, along her shoulder and down over the plump mounds of her breasts, taking her nipples into his mouth and biting on them gently until they stood proud and erect, like little pink pebbles on top of little soft mountains. As Carla's hands raked through Peter's hair, pushing his face into her body, he moved his trail of kisses ever downward, over her tummy and down to that space between her thighs.

Rising to his feet, Peter reached around Carla's body and, gripping her underneath her arse cheeks, lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his body and her arms around his neck, leaning close into him to kiss him softly on the lips.

Making slow progress, for they couldn't keep their hands from touching every part of each other's bodies that they could reach, or their lips off each other's lips, their tongues from each other's mouths, Peter walked them towards Carla's bedroom, desperate, for the first time in over two and a half years, to rediscover the delights of Carla's body, and willing to share with her every part of his.


	4. Chapter 4

"It can't be true," Carla kept repeating to herself over and over. "It just can't."

Carla stood in front of her bathroom mirror and stared at the woman reflected back at her. It was a woman she barely recognised; a woman terrified of what this might mean.

It was all she could do to keep from climbing out the window, shimmying down a drainpipe and running; running and not looking back, never looking back. If she ignored it, it wasn't happening, right?

"Carla!" Peter called out to her from the bedroom. "Come back to bed!"

Having discarded her plan to escape via the window, Carla took a deep breath, composing herself before she had to return to Peter, to the bed it seemed neither of them had left for weeks now.

Those last few weeks with Peter had been like a dream. She couldn't help but smile as she thought back to their rediscovered passion that had been awakened in such dramatic fashion on New Year's Eve. But Carla knew full well that sooner or later she'd have to wake up from that dream. But this? This was the wake-up call she hadn't seen coming. It felt like she was waking up to a nightmare.

"What are you doing in there, Car?"

"Be out in a minute!" Carla called back to him.

Carla could tell Peter was getting impatient. What for, she didn't know. Surely he couldn't have recovered already? Be ready for another… But then again, he had been insatiable. After so long apart, she didn't blame him.

"Well, hurry up! I miss you."

She walked back into the bedroom to where Peter was sprawled, naked apart from the bedsheets that were twisted around his body, waiting for her.

"There you are," he said, rising up so that he could wrap his arms around her waist and pull her in for a soft, lingering kiss.

"You can forget about any more of that for now," Carla said firmly. "You need to go."

"Why?"

"Umm…" Carla was hesitant to reveal her reason, knowing how Peter would react. "Nick's coming round to –"

"Nick!" Peter practically spat the name in disgust. "What the hell's he coming here for?"

"If you'll let me finish," Carla chastised him. "Thank you. He's coming to pick up the rest of his stuff."

"So, let him come," Peter said nonchalantly. "You worried he's gonna challenge me to a duel or summat?"

"Peter, don't joke," Carla said. "He is still my husband, remember?"

"I get it, the guy will be upset. But... he needs to face facts sooner or later that you and him are over. Or is that what you're worried about? You don't want it to be over?"

"No, but… Ending a marriage, it's a big thing."

"Yeah, I know. And I remember I didn't hesitate to end mine to Leanne for you."

"That's not exactly true, Peter, don't try to rewrite history. And it's not just about Nick."

"You mean, it's me?"

"These past few weeks have been..."

"Everything."

"Fun."

"Fun?"

"I mean, what are we doing, Peter? Are we just messing around, or is it –"

"Messing around?" Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I thought we were…"

"What?" Carla shrugged her shoulders. "What did you think? Did you think we were going to set up house together? Nick moves out and you move right in before his side of the bed's even cold?"

"Carla…"

"Get a quickie divorce so we can have another crack at – ugh! I can't even think about that. Try for… damn… I don't…" Carla's voice trailed off, her words were a jumble, a reflection of her thoughts. "Where does this end, Peter?"

"It ends with us, you and me, Carla, together." He reached for her hand and held it in his own, stroking her skin softly with his thumb. "I don't care how it looks to anyone else. Or what the legalities are. I don't care about any of that. I just want to be with you. I thought that's what you wanted as well."

"It is, it's just…"

"What? Please, Carla, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

"The thing is…" Carla stammered. 'Just tell him!' screamed that small voice inside her mind. 'He'll understand if you're honest.' "I think I, umm…" Carla looked searchingly at Peter and wondered if she dared. "I'm scared is all." She couldn't tell him.

"What are you scared of?" Peter asked softly. "Is it because you think I'll betray you again?"

"No," Carla shook her head. "Maybe. That's not… Can we talk about this later?"

"No!" Peter flat-out refused; he was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Carla. "We're sorting this out once and for all."

"Please, Peter, can you just go," Carla pleaded with him. "I don't want Nick finding you here."

"Fine. Whatever you want," Peter said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. "I'll see you round."

"Oh, Peter, wait!" Carla grabbed onto Peter's hand and refused to let go.

"Make up your mind," Peter said sullenly. "First you want me to go, then you –"

"Shut up, will you!" Carla commanded, a smile playing on her lips. "Stop sulking and kiss me goodbye properly."

When presented with such a command, what else could Peter do but kiss her? So he kissed her, softly, his lips grazing over her lips, pressing against them, opening up to her lips, to her tongue.

* * *

"I've packed up all your stuff," Carla explained to Nick matter-of-fact; she didn't want to draw this ordeal out any longer than necessary.

"You didn't need to do that."

"Nonsense," Carla rebutted. "It was the least I could do. Anyway, those boxes are yours."

Nick stared at the boxes piled up in the corner of the room, so cold, so loveless, the sum total of his life with Carla.

"Is David coming to help you carry them over?"

"No, it's just me."

"Oh, well, I guess I could help you."

"How are you?" Nick asked softly, ignoring Carla's inane chatter about boxes and moving.

"Nick…"

"I've missed you," Nick confessed with a mixture of hope and expectation, he truly believed that Carla was feeling the same way.

"Nick, I…" Carla couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't break his heart with the knowledge that she had spent the last few weeks in bed with his arch enemy.

"Carla," Nick whispered, moving towards her, wanting to be near her. "I've missed you so much."

He reached out and gently stroked her cheek. He leaned down to kiss her but, at the last second, Carla turned her face away. His kiss ended up gracing her cheek.

"Why are you being like this?" Nick asked, the pain in his voice obvious. "I know I've made mistakes, we both have, but… after Boxing Day I thought… I thought I could hope. Just a little bit of hope, but enough."

The truth was, if Peter hadn't come back, if they hadn't fallen back into each other's arms, then who knows, Carla might've worked harder to keep her and Nick's marriage alive. A month ago, it was all she had wanted. If Peter wasn't around… But he was. And she knew that wasn't Nick's fault; she couldn't blame him for feeling this way, for wanting to get back what they'd lost, and for feeling confused at her reluctance. She didn't know what to say to him; so she said the only thing that made any sense to her.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry, Carla, I just want you."

This time, he didn't give her a chance to turn her head or to pull away. Placing a hand behind her head, he drew her in towards him, and then he kissed her. He kissed her passionately, forcefully, desperately.

Carla twisted her body away from him, ducking her head to end his kiss. "Nick!" she protested, shifting her hands up to his chest and pushing him away from her. "Stop this!"

"Carla, just –" Nick persisted, gripping her waist firmly and pulling her in to him, so that her body was pressed up against his.

"No!" Carla's basic instincts kicked in and, with all the force she could muster, she kneed him in the groin. While he was doubled over with the pain, she wasted no time in running for the door; she'd been in this position before and, while she didn't believe Nick would intentionally hurt her, she'd made that mistake before and paid for it dearly.

"Carla, wait!"

* * *

"Carla!" Nick hobbled after Carla as she marched down the cobbles, her destination as yet undecided; all she wanted was to get away from Nick. "I'm sorry. Please!"

Nick broke into an ungainly run; his groin still throbbed with the almost unbearable pain that lingered on. He didn't care, as long as he caught up to Carla.

"Go away, Nick," Carla pleaded as Nick fell into step next to her.

"Please, let me explain."

Carla stopped and stared at Nick, a challenge in her eyes. "Go on then, explain it away like you always do."

"You know I didn't mean it," Nick reasoned with her. "I never mean it."

"But it keeps on happening, Nick. Again and again. I've had enough!"

Peter watched the estranged couple from a distance, a witness to what was clearly an intense conversation escalating quickly into a heated argument.

He wondered if he should intervene, but soon decided against the idea. He knew from bitter experience that Carla, fiercely independent as she was, would not thank him for the interference.

But then something happened that changed everything. It was over in a moment and, for a moment, Peter second-guessed if he hadn't just imagined the whole thing. As Peter had been on the verge of turning away, he saw Nick's hand rise into the air and fly down on course to strike Carla on the cheek. But Carla's reflexes were too quick for him; her hand flew up and gripped his wrist, stopping it in its tracks mere centimetres from her face.

And then Peter's instincts kicked in; he ran towards Nick, towards this monster that was attacking the woman he loved. And without a word of greeting or by your leave, he punched him. As hard as he could, Peter rammed his fist into Nick's face.

"Peter!" Carla screamed as Nick fell to the ground, his hands clutching at his nose that was spouting blood. "What the hell!"

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her again!" he bellowed down at Nick, looming over him, his fists clenched by his sides. "Or I swear to god I will kill you."

"Peter!" Carla dragged Peter away from Nick, who remained sprawled on the ground. "Leave him alone."

"Leave _him_ alone?" Peter repeated Carla's words back to her incredulously. "I saw what he just tried to do to you."

"No," Carla shook her head. "He didn't, it's… It's not what you think."

"It's… what?" Peter asked in astonishment; was Carla really apologising for Nick's behaviour? "Are you –?"

"Can you please leave us alone, Peter." Carla looked Peter in the eye, a silent plea to leave her to deal with Nick on her own.

"You can't be serious?" Peter stared at Carla in confusion. "You want me to leave you alone with him after what I just witnessed?"

"I can handle it."

"Carla…"

"Peter, I'm serious."

Peter shook his head, he couldn't believe that Carla wanted _him_ to go. "What hold has he got over you?"

"Peter!" Carla had finally lost her patience. "Just go!"

"Whatever you say," Peter reluctantly backed down, his hands raised in the air, a sign of surrender. "Just don't come crying to me when this happens again."

Carla watched Peter walk away; she desperately wanted to run after him, to hold him and never let go. But she knew that Nick needed her right now. More than Peter did. So she stayed right there, with her husband.

She crouched down next to Nick and, pulling some tissues from her handbag, dabbed at the bloody wound on his face.

"I'm so sorry, Carla." Nick said, truly remorseful over his actions. "You know I would never hurt you, not on purpose. I just, I can't control myself sometimes. It's my head, it's…"

"I know, baby."

"I'm so scared," Nick confessed, his breaths coming in short gasps as he tried to control the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him. "I hate myself for what I've become."

"Don't be scared, it'll be okay," Carla spoke softly, trying her best to reassure him. "We're gonna get you better, yeah?"

"Will you help me, Carla?"

"I'll try."

"Promise me," Nick begged, "I need you, Carla. Please, please don't leave me."

Nick had finally reached his breaking point; he broke down at that moment, dissolving into sobs, his face buried in Carla's chest as she gently stroked his hair and wondered, not for the first time, if she was the one making his condition worse.

* * *

Carla exited the cab, her arms weighed down with a plethora of shopping bags, to find Peter leaning up against the front wall of Victoria Court. As usual, a lit cigarette was dangling from his fingertips which, every now and then he would raise to his lips and take a deep drag.

"Shopping therapy I see?" Peter observed Carla's haul. "Some things never change, ey?"

"Much more fun than seeing a shrink," Carla shot back at him, surprised that their easy banter had returned so effortlessly after their harsh exchange earlier.

"More expensive too, I'd wager, if your tastes are anything to go by."

"What are you doing here, Peter?"

"Straight to the point as always," Peter said with a smile. "What do you think? I was waiting for you."

"In that case," Carla said. "How about being a gentleman and carrying my bags inside?"

Peter flicked his cigarette to the ground and sauntered towards Carla, unburdening her of the fruits of her shopping spree.

"Not that one," Carla grabbed a small bag from his hands and stuffed it into her handbag before replying to the question asked only by the slight raise of his left eyebrow. "None of your business."

"Whatever," Peter said with a shrug. Then, unable to resist, he kissed her briefly but oh so softly on the lips. "And I don't care who sees us."

"Whatever."

* * *

"If you want a brew or summat, you need to make it yourself," Carla said as she started unpacking her shopping bags and piling them in some sort of an order on the dining table. "I've gotta keep moving."

"I don't want a brew."

"Then why are you here?" Carla asked impatiently. "If it's what I'm thinking, I don't have time for any of that."

"I'm not obsessed with sex!" Peter protested.

"I've got quite a lot of evidence to the contrary," Carla countered with a smirk. "Quite a few weeks' worth as a matter of fact."

"I thought you'd forgotten about the last few weeks."

"What?"

"You telling me to get lost earlier," Peter said, the injustice and bitterness clear in his voice. "With Nick. It was like you and me had never happened."

"Oh, come on, Peter," Carla rebuked him. "I needed to make sure he was okay. That was all that was. Nothing more."

"Make sure _he_ was okay?" Peter was incredulous. "You were the one on the receiving end."

"It wasn't –"

"It was," Peter declared. "And somehow I don't think it was the first time, given the speed of your reflexes. It was almost like you were expecting it. I'm right, aren't I? It wasn't the first time?"

"You don't understand, he's –"

"A wife beater."

"He's ill."

"He's a violent thug."

"Have a bit of sympathy for the guy, Peter, it's not his fault."

"I can't believe you're defending him. What's happened to the Carla I know? Hey? That woman would not put up with this kind of behaviour from a man, not from anyone!"

"It's not him, not really."

"Oh, Carla," Peter sighed. "You know you're not helping him by letting him get away with it."

"We've split up," Carla bit back as she disappeared into the bedroom. "How's that letting him get away with it? And I mean," Carla continued as she reappeared, pulling a stylish black suitcase on wheels behind her. "It's not like it was a regular thing."

"Still…" Peter suddenly noticed Carla's suitcase that she was rapidly filling with clothes, shoes, toiletries, everything she would need if… "What are you…? Are you taking a trip or summat?"

"Or summat, yeah."

"Carla?" Peter grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her away from her activity. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"I'm going to LA to see Suzy."

"Right," Peter said with a frown. "And when did you decide this?"

"A couple of hours ago."

"Did you think of talking to me about this?" Peter asked. "Or weren't you even going to bother saying goodbye?"

Carla dropped her gaze, she couldn't look Peter in the eye. He was right, she had planned on slipping out of town without a word to anyone.

"I have to finish packing," she murmured, suddenly ashamed of her cowardice. "My cab's gonna be here any minute."

Peter dropped her hand, speechless, and watched as if in a dream – or a nightmare – as Carla hastily packed her bags. He couldn't understand where it had all gone wrong. That morning, everything had been perfect. He and Carla were, as far as he was concerned, back together and happy, deliriously happy. And now she was as good as gone from his life and there didn't seem to be a thing he could do about it.

* * *

"You're running away, Carla."

Peter hurled his accusation at her as she dragged her suitcase through the front lobby of Victoria Court and towards the waiting cab.

"Actually, I'm flying."

"My god, Carla," Peter's understanding had reached its limit. "I've tried to be patient. I know how huge all this is for you; leaving a marriage, us, trying to figure out if you can trust me again. But to just run away without a word? I thought I meant more to you than that."

"Oh, Peter, you do," Carla left her suitcase on the footpath for the driver to load into the cab and turned to Peter, gripping onto the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him softly on the cheek. "You mean so much to me, please believe that. It kinda scares me how much in so little time."

"Don't be scared," Peter whispered hoarsely. "We can do this. Together, you and me. But we need to stick together."

"Peter…" Carla shook her head. "It's just, my head's a bit of a mess at the moment. I need some space, some time on my own, to sort myself out."

"You are coming back then?"

Carla pulled her phone out of her back pocket and showed him her e-ticket.

"My return flight is in two weeks."

"And when you come back…?" Peter was scared to ask the question he wasn't sure of the answer to. "Will you be coming back to Nick?"

"No." Carla was definite.

"To me?"

"Let's just see how things go, yeah?"

"Okay," Peter nodded, knowing not to push Carla before she was ready. "I'll take that."

Then Carla kissed him; a passionate kiss goodbye that Peter wasn't likely to forget in a hurry. She held his face gently between her hands, her thumbs brushing over the salt-and-pepper stubble he sported on his chin. He pulled her in, his hands around her waist, moving down to her arse, gliding up her back and raking through her hair. Their lips met and mashed together, parting as their tongues swept across the other's lips, into each other's mouth, nibbling gently on each other's lips.

As much as she wished she could stay like this, being held by Peter, forever, Carla knew she had to go. She pulled gently away from him and, with a soft kiss on his cheek, disentangled herself from his embrace.

"Bye then."

Carla didn't wait for a reply; she hurried into the cab, settling herself in the back seat, before turning to peer out the window for one last look at Peter. She waved her final farewell, her palm pressed against the glass as the cab pulled away from Peter, leaving him alone and bereft on the footpath, and sped off down the street.

Now that Carla was alone, she could admit the truth to herself. Peter was right, she was running away. It was what she did, it was what she always did when times got tough. And right now, in her mind, times were tough.

She reached into her handbag and pulled out the small bag she'd stashed in there earlier, the bag she had been so secretive about. Unwrapping the bag gingerly, she pulled out the contents, a single small box, long and narrow. A pregnancy test. Even though she hadn't taken the test yet, she knew what the result would be.

Despite everything, Carla couldn't help but smile. Her own little Christmas miracle.

But who was the father? She had done the maths, worried over the dates, but she couldn't know for sure. Nick on Boxing Day; Peter for the first time on New Year's Eve. And, until she got her head around each possibility, Nick or Peter, Peter or Nick, she had to go away, to keep away from both of them. To figure things out in her own mind, to figure out more importantly, how she would cope if the man she wanted to be with was not the father of her baby. Once she was strong enough to cope with either outcome, she would come back and make things right.


End file.
